


Shame

by witchplease



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anxiety, Childhood Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 09:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17261564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchplease/pseuds/witchplease
Summary: David's just painting his nails and Patrick can't figure out why it's bothering him so much. When a childhood memory resurfaces, Patrick is thrown off guard and David is there to help him process. Set sometime after Season 4.





	Shame

**Author's Note:**

> General content warning for processing feelings of shame and guilt, childhood trauma and memories, homophobia/transphobia from a mother. Everything is okay at the end, I promise!
> 
> Dedicated to all the queer and trans folks who are healing and loving their inner child the best that they can. <3

Patrick walked into the front room of the store with a box full of new face creams. David was leaning against the counter fussing with something on his hand. They had just opened five minutes ago and it was still quiet and sleepy this early Thursday morning. Patrick set the box down and began shelving the jars. He glanced over his shoulder at David and did a double take.

“Are you... painting your nails?” Patrick asked.

“I’m trying to,” David said, not looking up. He furrowed his brow as he carefully brushed black polish onto his right thumb. “Normally this is something I pay professionals to do. It’s been awhile since I’ve done it myself and I’m a little out of practice.”

Patrick turned back to the jars of face cream he was stocking. An uneasiness fluttered somewhere in his stomach that he couldn’t quite place. David continued talking about his last experience getting a manicure at the salon in Elmdale (he had some choice words about Janine) and Patrick hummed in agreement at the appropriate times, but his mind was somewhere else.

Patrick wasn’t quite sure why, but all of the sudden he was thinking of his mom. He could hear his mom’s voice running through his head, what she might say if she saw David, or any man for that matter, wearing nail polish. The way her eyebrows would raise up her forehead and the discerning look in her eyes.

But Patrick didn’t feel that way about David. He loved David. He loved his style, the way he held himself and the way he walked, the way his face softened when he looked at Patrick. David was handsome and beautiful all at once. The way David was able to look masculine and sexy while expressing his femininity so genuinely was incredibly attractive to Patrick. He didn’t know anyone else like David and Patrick still wasn’t quite sure how he got so lucky. To understand and love someone like David and to know that he was understood and loved in return.

Patrick has thought before about what his mom might say about David. Or even about himself. He knows that all this might feel like a shock to her, but he never thought it would become irreconcilable. Patrick’s first cousin helped break the ice on that years ago when he came out and brought his partner to Christmas. They’re part of the family just like anyone else is.

Patrick looked back over at David who was still meticulously attending to his nails. Patrick felt like he was looking at David through his mother’s eyes, instead of his own, and it made him sick to his stomach. He walked over to the front counter standing across from David. The strong smell of the nail polish made his head spin. “I’m going to go get some tea, do you want anything?”

“My usual, please!” David replied.

Patrick leaned over the counter and kissed David’s temple. David looked up at Patrick, trying and failing to hide a smile.

\---

As Patrick walked back to the store with his tea and David’s coffee, he couldn’t shake the fog in his head. There was a faint image or memory that felt like it was hanging in the foreground of his vision. His mom looking down at him, her expression cross. Her hand tight around his wrist. He couldn’t place the memory, but he felt shame wash over his body and land unpleasantly in his stomach. He felt guilty about something but didn’t know what.

When he walked into the store, Stevie was standing across the counter from David. She was admiring his manicure, his palms gently resting on hers.

“Very nice,” Stevie said, smirking.

“My right hand is so sloppy, I need to redo it,” David said, frowning. “Could you do it?”

Stevie laughed, “You don’t want me to do that, I would just make it worse.”

Patrick stepped behind the counter and set the drinks down. “Hey, Stevie, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming over or else I would have gotten you a drink, too.”

Stevie waved a hand in the air, “Don’t worry about it, I’m just dropping in.”

David reached for his coffee cup, stiffly stretching his fingers apart to avoid smudging the polish. He made quite a dramatic effort to take a sip.

Stevie gestured to Patrick. “Have Patrick do your nails.”

David set his cup down and rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder, “Oh, would you? You have such a steady hand!”

Patrick wrapped his arm around David’s back. He chuckled to fight off the nervous feeling traveling from his stomach to his chest. “I don’t think I’d be very good at that.” His mother’s face floated in the front of his vision again and that feeling of uneasy guilt returned.

“You’ll be fine,” David said reassuringly. “My nail polish remover is at home, so we’ll have to wait until after work. But I want to fix it before we go out to dinner with my family.”

Patrick shifted his weight, stepping away from David. “Uh, sure, but I don’t really think I’ll be very good.” As he turned away to walk into the back room, he could see David and Stevie glance at each other.

\---

Patrick flipped the “open” sign to “closed” and locked the door with a click. David was standing on the sidewalk outside the store, looking up at the pink clouds stretched across the sky as the sun set behind the horizon. Patrick joined David and they began the short walk to their apartment. Their new place was just a couple of blocks from the store, but Patrick came to cherish these walks with David.

David’s hand brushed against Patrick’s and they wove their fingers together. David pulled Patrick’s hand up to his lips and kissed him. “Patrick, are you okay?”

Patrick looked up at David, although not quite making eye contact, and attempted to casually respond, “Yeah, I’m fine!”

David didn’t look convinced. “You’ve just been pretty quiet today.”

“My stomach hasn’t been feeling well.” It was technically true, Patrick thought. He didn’t know how to explain what was going on without hurting David’s feelings. He felt so ashamed of himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” David said softly. An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of them as they continued down the street.

Once at home, Patrick poured himself a glass of water and sat at the kitchen table. He tried to take a few deep breaths and wished he could clear his head of his mother’s face. He could still feel her hand around his wrist and he rubbed his arm, trying to place this particularly memory. Wasn’t his grandma there, too? Patrick remembered the smell of talcum powder, her soft hands, joints stiff from arthritis.

His thoughts were disrupted when David stepped into the kitchen. He placed a bag of cotton balls onto the table along with the nail polish remover. “Okay, we are going to try this again!” he said, pulling the black nail polish out of his pocket.

David flopped down into the seat across from Patrick, who was trying to relax his expression. David paused. “Alright, what the hell is going on, Patrick?”

“Nothing, I swear, I’m fine,” Patrick waved his hands dismissively.

“I know things have been slow at the store lately, are you stressed about that?” David asked. “Because I really don’t hate the idea of rearranging the window displays, it’s just that -”

“Are you sure you want to go out with that nail polish tonight?” Patrick blurted out.

“What?” David asked. He arched an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, doesn’t it seem like a bit much?” Patrick felt a flush creeping up his neck. This was not coming out right.

“Excuse me?” David had an edge to his voice. “What’s wrong with painting my nails?”

“Nothing, I didn’t mean - I’m just trying to say -” Patrick spluttered. “No, it’s fine, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that…” He was now officially blabbering. “I’m sorry. Here, I can try and help you with your nails, it’s not going to be very good though.”

David’s eyes narrowed and his mouth was twisted into a thin line. He took a deep breath, not taking his eyes off Patrick. Patrick squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. David twisted off the cap of the nail polish remover, put a cotton ball over the top and flipped the bottle upside down.

The acrid smell of the nail polish remover hit Patrick like an oncoming train. His head was flooded with the memory that had been haunting him all day. Of course, how could he forget. His eyes began to sting and his throat was hot. Patrick realized with a start that he was crying.

David replaced the cap onto the bottle of the nail polish remover. He abruptly stood up from his seat and walked out of the kitchen. Patrick rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was so embarrassed. He felt sure that David was mad at him and Patrick couldn’t blame him.

David returned to the kitchen, threw the cotton ball away in the trash can under the sink, and sat back down. His voice much softer than before, he said, “I just texted Alexis to say that we won’t be able to join them for dinner tonight.” He reached out his hands and gently rubbed Patrick’s arms. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Patrick took a deep shuddering breath, not removing his hands from his face. Hot tears were now streaming down his face and he couldn’t stop them. David moved his chair so that he was sitting closer to him. Patrick felt David’s strong arms wrap around him. He twisted his body towards David and buried his face in his shoulder. David’s hand rested on the back of his neck, his fingers gently stroking his short hair. Patrick couldn’t stop shaking, the sobs breaking through his throat in painful gulps. David began to rub his back, whispering quietly in Patrick’s ear, “It’s okay to cry, I’m here for you, Patrick. I love you so much.”

After a few minutes that felt like hours, Patrick’s breathing finally started to calm. He sat up a little straighter, his hands still over his eyes. David kissed the side of his face and squeezed his shoulders. Patrick felt so safe with David’s arms around him. “I’m so sorry,” Patrick said, short of breath. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize,” David murmured.

“I’m so sorry,” Patrick repeated. David reached behind him, grabbed a towel off the kitchen counter, and handed it to Patrick. Patrick took it and ran it over his face. He was self conscious of how red and puffy his eyes were, the mix of tears and snot running down his face.

As Patrick began to breathe more regularly, David sat in silence with him. David was alternating between stroking his hair at his forehead and rubbing his back. Patrick rested his head under David’s chin. After another long moment passed, Patrick said, “All day I’ve had this nagging feeling.”

David didn’t speak, he kept rubbing Patrick’s back.

“It was like a slide projector image, superimposed on my vision,” Patrick continued, waving his hand a few inches in front of his eyes to illustrate his point. “I couldn’t place it at first. I’ve felt so guilty all day. And I don’t know why.”

Patrick sat up and looked at David, “I don’t have any problem with you doing your nails, it’s not about that, I’m so sorry, David.” Patrick started to speak quickly, “I was so uncomfortable with it and I didn’t know why and it’s not about you, it’s me. It’s my fault.”

David frowned slightly, “What’s your fault?”

Patrick sighed. “It’s just…” He paused for a long moment.

“When I was a kid, I would hang out with my Grandma Ruth while she put on her makeup. I thought she was so glamorous and beautiful. It became our thing we did together. I remember once she put on her makeup and hadn’t told me and I was so mad at her. One time, she was also painting her nails.” Patrick took a deep breath. “I was so impressed and I wanted her to paint my nails so badly. I asked her and it was no big deal to her. She didn’t hesitate - she seemed even excited. It was this light peach color and I thought it looked so pretty.”

“My mom knew that I would watch Grandma Ruth put on makeup. She didn’t ever seem thrilled about it, I guess, but she didn’t say anything. She certainly never stopped me. But she walked in and saw Grandma painting my nails… she must have seen how excited I was. And she lost it.”

David rested his hand on the back of Patrick’s neck, rubbing his fingers in his hair.

“She grabbed my wrists and dragged me into the bathroom,” Patrick continued, “Took out the nail polish remover and rubbed hard at my fingers. I remember I had hangnails on a couple of my fingers and it stung. I was so embarrassed. Grandma Ruth just sat there.” 

Patrick absentmindedly rubbed his fingers around his left wrist. “She was so mad at Grandma. At me. And then we never talked about it ever again.”

David grasped Patrick’s hands in his. “Patrick, I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Patrick looked bewildered. “I don’t think I would have been able to recall that memory before today. Isn’t that weird? And now I can’t believe I ever forgot about it.”

David nodded. “It’s amazing the ways our brain protects us from painful memories.”

“It’s like it’s been hanging out in the corner of my eye, waiting for me to remember, ” Patrick said.

There was a long pause. “It’s not your fault, Patrick,” David said quietly. “You were just a kid. Your mom shouldn’t have done that. Your grandma should have stood up for you. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

Patrick looked at David. His heart felt like it was cracked open. As if David could see this, he intuitively placed his hand over Patrick’s chest. Tears stung at Patrick’s eyes again. “Thank you, David.” He took a deep breath. “I hate that I feel so much guilt. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel it.”

David thought about this for a moment, rubbing his fingers against the front of Patrick’s shirt. “I think as kids we just instinctively love our parents. Even if they’re not doing a good job at loving us. We are just programmed to love and care for our parents. So you saw her shame and guilt and anger, and just absorbed it. Because what else were you supposed to do at that age?” His voice broke slightly. “I wish I could give baby Patrick a big hug and tell him that I thought his nails looked beautiful.”

The tears that Patrick had been holding in came spilling down his cheeks. “Me, too.”

Patrick started laughing, “I promise I won’t do this every time you paint your nails. I hope I haven’t scared you from doing this ever again.” He looked at David, more seriously now. “I shouldn’t have said the things I said. I’m sorry.”

David met Patrick’s gaze. “Thank you. Now that I know it’s your mother’s shame, and not you, that helps me understand. There is no room for her judgement in our relationship.”

Patrick nodded. “I agree.”

David leaned forward and kissed Patrick sweetly on the mouth. Patrick kissed him back, cupping his face in his hand.

“You know,” David was smirking slightly, “sometimes I think the best revenge is reclamation. If you ever want to paint your nails, I’d be more than happy to assist in a little healing gender revolution.”

Patrick smiled slightly. “I like that idea.”

“Not today, of course, but sometime if you ever feel like it,” David hurried to clarify.

Patrick ran his hands over David’s, turning his palms to admire his nails. Looking at the black polish on David’s strong, elegant hands, Patrick felt like he was seeing them for the first time today. His mother’s voice was nowhere to be found. He thought David’s hands looked beautiful.

“Hmmm,” Patrick considered. “Maybe not all of my nails tonight… but what about a thumbnail?”

David grinned. “I love it.” He titled his head to look at Patrick. “Are you sure?”

Patrick nodded. “I’m sure.”

David unwound himself from Patrick to reach over the table and grab the small bottle of nail polish. He unscrewed the cap and brushed off the excess polish. David paused and kissed Patrick gently on the corner of his jaw. “I love you.”

Patrick rested his head on David’s shoulder and put his right hand on the table, sticking out his thumb. “I love you, too.”

David took Patrick’s hand gently in his own and began to apply the polish to his thumbnail. It took just a few strokes. David bent forward and blew air on Patrick’s thumbnail so it could dry. He put on one more coat, then leaned back to admire his work. “There we go,” he said, turning to Patrick. “In honor of baby Patrick.”

Patrick closed his eyes and repeated, “In honor of baby Patrick.”

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SO SORRY! I can't believe I made Patrick cry! This was not the story I thought I was going to write when I started. I would love and appreciate feedback. Happy New Year, everyone!


End file.
